


Show me that I'll never fly alone

by rydia



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Claudeleth Week, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), azure moon claudeleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rydia/pseuds/rydia
Summary: Five years ago, Byleth had chosen the Blue Lions to teach, but she'd still become close to Claude, leader of the Golden Deer. Closer than, perhaps, she should have.Ever since she'd woken up and found out that she's lost five years, Byleth has longed to see him again. But she doesn't get her chance until the Kingdom army has saved Derdriu. Even then, she knows her time is limited, because Claude has made it clear he doesn't intend to stay in Fódlan.Claudeleth week day 4: reunion/pining
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 15
Kudos: 222
Collections: Claudeleth Week 2020





	Show me that I'll never fly alone

It surprises Byleth how peaceful the merging of the Alliance back into the Kingdom is – although the celebratory feast thrown in Dimitri’s honour still has an element of strain about it. The war against the Empire hangs over them all and there is, perhaps, a small part of the proud nobles of the former Leicester Alliance unhappy with the situation. But none of them seem inclined to oppose it. Claude had been truthful when he’d said he had their backing for this. And Dimitri _had_ saved Derdriu, cutting a handsome figure with Areadhbhar, striking down the Empire, and assisting the Alliance troops. It had gone a long way to dispelling the rumours about the _mad king_ that have been circulating for some months.

So, despite his checkered past, Dimitri is popular, and perhaps, with the Empire’s invasion so fresh in everyone's minds, this solution is the only way for them to survive.

The last five years of war have been difficult for everyone, royalty or not.

 _Except for me_ , Byleth thinks. The woman who slept through it all.

She spends much of the feast watching Claude, who is seated further down the table, trying to ignore the disturbingly large ache in her non-beating heart.

Claude's smiles are wide. His voice jovial. His laugh is loud. None of it is real. Strange to think she’s so certain of that when he’s grown and clearly changed so much in the last few years. But Byleth knows he’s just getting through this so can leave and follow his real dream.

The shock of that brief, brutal conversation stays with her. _I’m leaving_ , he’d said, so nonchalant like he was completely unaware it had sent Byleth spinning. She’d had too much pride to ask him if she mattered at all, especially with Dimitri standing there. The answer might have been too difficult to hear.

No matter how close they’d been back at Garreg Mach, that had been five years ago, and Byleth’s knowledge of Claude is very out of date.

*~*

Claude disappears not long after all the formal speeches are done. By now, the wine is flowing far more freely, and the general atmosphere has loosened up, making it easier for him to slip away. His absence makes Byleth anxious. While she’s fairly certain Claude won’t take off in the middle of the night without a word to anyone, she isn’t certain _enough_.

Unfortunately, while Claude had managed to slip away with no one noticing, she has a harder time extracting herself from the crowd. Far too many people are interested in the acting Archbishop and tactician that’s been working so closely with Dimitri. She can see the eyes moving between her and him, wondering and speculating, and she hates it.

So Byleth does what she does best, and tries to think of this as a battlefield. Unfortunately, the weapons here are words and smiles, not swords and magic. And she’s still not great with her words, especially not around nobles who have been learning these weapons since they were children.

Byleth has learned how to faked a smile, though.

She may have been the teacher, but Claude had taught her some things, too.

Eventually, she escapes, making excuses, lying through her smiles. She briefly catches Dimitri’s gaze across the room before she ducks into a dark hallway. He’s wearing a rueful expression, like he might want to follow her and get away from the crowds too, but then his attention is drawn elsewhere. Another noble, another somebody who wanted something.

Byleth feels a brief moment of pity for him, but she doesn’t look back.

*~*

As the din from the feast fades into the background, Byleth now realises that her problem is that she has no idea where Claude might be. She pauses in her aimless wandering, and when she hears a noise behind her, her hand automatically goes for her sword – the sword which isn’t there because she’d been told it would be inappropriate to wear it.

So Byleth spins, ready to pull on her magic if needed, but when she sees the person facing her, it pulls her up short.

“Hilda.”

Hilda tilts her head. “Professor.”

Byleth feels tension building between her shoulder blades.

Between them sits Gronder.

“Are you well, Hilda?”

Hilda sighs. “Well enough. I suppose I should thank you for your help in Derdriu.” She pauses. “I guess it makes up for Gronder.”

“I’m not sure it does,” Byleth replies softly, resisting the illogical urge to check that Raphael’s blood isn’t still staining her hands.

But Hilda shrugs, finally becoming a little more animated. “Maybe, but at least I don’t have to spend my time taking care of Claude anymore. He’s hopeless, you know.”

Byleth’s mouth twitches, a tiny smile forming. Hilda’s tone makes her feel nostalgic. “Hopeless?”

“Absolutely!” Hilda says dramatically. “Always _Hilda do this, Hilda do that_ … and he got very mopey. I think he missed you.” She raises her eyebrows.

Byleth ignores that comment because she’s not sure what to say. She’s not sure she can believe it. “I was hoping to speak to him, actually. Do you know where he is?”

“I don’t, but I can show you where his room is. If he’s not there, he’s probably with his best friend, _the wyvern_.” With that, Hilda strides by her, leading her through the maze of hallways.

Her mock reproachful tone keeps the smile on Byleth’s face as they walk, but the two don’t speak any further until Hilda pauses, indicating a dimly lit and richly furnished hallway that, frankly, looks identical to the one they’d just walked through. “His room is down there,” Hilda indicates with a wave of her arm. “Last on the left. He didn’t want anything too fancy, considering he’s no longer the leader of the Alliance.” A frown crosses her face. “Strange to think there’s no longer an Alliance to be leader of…” Before Byleth can reply, Hilda shrugs it off and turns to leave.

“Hilda.” At the sound of her name, Hilda pauses, turning back slightly to see Byleth’s face. “I’m sorry. About Gronder.” _Where I killed your friends and nearly killed you._

Any words she might say are completely insufficient.

Hilda sighs and looks away. “I know. I’m sorry, too. I can hardly be angry when if we had won…” Trailing off, she gives another shrug, and Byleth doesn’t need her to finish the sentence. If the Alliance had come out stronger, it would have been Byleth and her army dead. This is war. They all know what it means.

Seeming to gather herself, Hilda fixes a fierce look on Byleth. “Just promise me that you’ll stop Edelgard.”

“We will.” Byleth gives her word solemnly, and whatever Hilda sees in her face seems to satisfy her. She nods and steps back.

“Good.” The fierce look leaves and she tilts her chin up, looking haughty. “Now go cheer up Claude.” She pauses again, running an eye over Byleth. “Or help him celebrate, more likely.”

With that she is gone, leaving Byleth in a gloomy hallway, alone with only her growing nerves for company. Maybe Claude won’t want to talk to her at all, but if that's the case surely Hilda, who knew him so well, would never have brought her here?

Taking some strength in that, Byleth makes her way down the hall and knocks on the door of the room Hilda had indicated. She wishes she hadn’t eaten so heavily at dinner; her nerves were making her stomach clench.

But there’s no response from inside the room, and her nerves began to morph into crushing disappointment. She knocks again, listening carefully, but there’s no sound coming from inside.

He isn’t there. Perhaps she can follow Hilda’s other suggestion, and look for Claude out in the wyvern pens.

But perhaps… perhaps he’s already gone. Claude has a wyvern and fly away whenever he wants, and there’s nothing to keep him here anymore.

Byleth is just someone he’d known five years ago. She has to remember that. Just because it's only been months for her, she has to keep in mind that there’s no doubt Claude made his peace with her supposed death a long time ago. And since then, they have faced each other in battle. Hardly a touching reunion.

She doesn’t know what she’d been expecting by seeking him out, but the deep ache inside her tells her she’d been expecting _something_ ; that she’s been hoping she hadn’t just imagined their connection five years ago. And hoping that the events of the last few months haven’t broken that connection.

But Claude owes her nothing and he’s had five years to forget about someone who hadn’t even been his teacher. She’d just… been there. A riddle for him to puzzle out.

Byleth’s mouth twists downwards, and she turns away from the door, stalking back down the hall, intent on finding her own room somewhere in this maze of a building so she can hopefully find the oblivion of sleep. Because she can tell herself all the reasons as to why she shouldn't feel bad, but it’s never going to work.

She rounds a corner at speed, smacking right into someone coming the opposite way on silent feet.

“Teach?” Two hands shoot out to steady her, but it does nothing to help Byleth feel more balanced. Raising her eyes, she meets Claude’s surprised gaze.

She’s gotten used to the changes in her other students – even Dimitri, the most changed of them all. But she isn’t used to this Claude, not yet. Taller, broader, more handsome than ever. He holds himself with more confidence – not that he was particularly lacking it before, but she can see the difference five years has made in him beyond just a physical way.

He’s dressed simply too – judging from that and the slight sheen of sweat across his brows, Byleth concludes that Hilda’s other guess had been right, and he had been at the wyvern pens. Or he’d been training.

Claude’s hands slide down her arms lightly, before leaving her altogether. She feels a little bereft. “What brings you here, Teach?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” She braces herself for rejection.

But he nods slowly. “Sure. C’mon.” Brushing by her, Claude heads back down the hall. Byleth follows, wondering what he’s thinking, hating that she feels so anxious around Claude, of all people. Even Dimitri at his worst, when his words were weapons to wound and make her bleed, hadn’t inspired this aching dread in her because she’d never lost hope he’d find himself again. She’d been right to keep that faith – although it would be a lie to say Dimitri hadn’t hurt her.

But Claude could hate her; he could truly hate her, and he could walk away from her forever and she would remain spinning in a world she can’t catch up with. For Claude to hate her, or to treat her like Dimitri had… is unbearable to think about.

His room is spacious and richly furnished. The former leader of the Alliance certainly isn’t slumming it. Byleth enters behind him, shutting the door and leaning against it, taking it all in, noting that this is a suite. There are some ostentatious looking tables, chairs and sofas in this room, and she guesses the adjoining room contains a bed.

Turning to face her from the centre of the room, Claude regards her carefully, his face easy and open but not in a way she knows is genuine.

And Byleth realises something obvious. She’s already accepted that Claude has changed and she might not know him at all anymore. But it’s no different for him. He doesn’t know that she _hasn’t_ changed.

“Well, Teach, as much of an honour as it is to have you here, I am curious. What’s so important that you left your feast to come find little old me?”

For a moment, words fail her again. There’s so much to say and she doesn’t know where to start. In the end, she settles with two simple words. “I’m sorry.”

Claude raises his eyebrows. “What for, exactly?”

Taking a deep breath, Byleth glances up at the ceiling for a moment, gathering herself. “For disappearing for five years. For Gronder.”

She lowers her eyes in time to see a flash of grief cross his face. “Gronder was terrible,” he says softly. “I know this is war, and war is terrible but…”

“It’s selfish of me,” and here, Byleth’s voice wobbles, much to the surprise of both of them. “But I don’t think anything has felt worse than having to face you across a battlefield.” Hot flames of embarrassment lick up her neck as she speaks, at how very vulnerable this confession makes her feel, and she briefly wishes she could be how she had been before she’d ever entered the monastery at all, when her unbeating heart wasn’t so burdened with all these feelings, and her father was still with her. When there was no war and it was easier to live with herself. But she can’t not say it, not when he’s leaving and she might never get another chance.

Claude’s mouth briefly drops open in surprise, and his eyes widen. He takes a step towards her. “I… had no idea you felt that way, Teach.” His voice softens and Byleth closes her eyes and she lets the sound of it wash over her, wondering if when she opens them, she’ll still see a guarded expression. A mask. She can’t bear to see that directed at her again, not now, not after what she’s just said. But if this is the last time she’ll hear his voice like this, she’ll savour this moment. On cold nights when she lies on her lumpy bedroll surrounded by Dimitri’s army, blood of the people she’d killed that day still under her nails and nightmares rattling around her head; she’ll have this – the lilt of his voice, his softness, his smile, and remember that at one point she’d meant something to him.

She’s finally able to admit to herself that she loves Claude, and has for a long time. At least since the ball, possibly before.

“I looked for you,” he whispers, voice closer than before and Byleth’s eyes snap open in surprise when she feels his fingers graze her cheek, a feather light touch that makes her suck in an embarrassingly loud breath. When he cups her cheek, thumb brushing across her skin, she leans into it, unable to do anything else. She stars up into Claude’s face – he’s taller now – and his green eyes are bright. He’s close enough that she can feel the heat of him and she wants… she wants…

“I knew you couldn’t be dead,” Claude continues, a flash of anguish twisting his face before it smooths out into something like reverence as his thumb continues to stroke across the apple of her cheek, his eyes searching hers. “Hilda thought I was crazy, to hold on hope for so long, but I _knew_ you’d come back.”

“I didn’t want to leave. I lost five years, Claude.” Her hands fist into his shirt, pulling the fabric tight at his sides with a need to be anchored to him. “I wanted to find you, but Dimitri needed me.”

Claude’s gaze briefly drops, but he nods. “I’ve heard enough of Dimitri’s actions these past five years to know we probably have you to thank for bringing him back from the brink. He’ll be a good king.”

“It wasn’t just me.”

“Of course, of course, it was a group effort. You always said that.” He smiles fondly at her. “You haven’t changed, Byleth.”

“No, I haven’t.” Emboldened by his smiles and his words, she reaches up to rest her hand against the open collar of his shirt, her fingers skimming up over his clavicle, pausing when she feels his hammering pulse, matching her own. He swallows, and the movement of his throat under her soft touch feels shockingly intimate. She resists the urge to pull back her hand out of nerves, partially because Claude doesn’t seem to mind her touch and also because while Byleth is many things, she isn’t a coward. She’d regret it more if she didn’t do this. With a deep breath she goes on, “I still feel the same way about you.”

“Oh?” Claude’s voice drops and he steps even closer to her until only the barest amount of space separates them. When her hand falls from his neck, he takes it in his, tangling their fingers together. Byleth tilts her head further back to keep his gaze. “And how do you feel?”

Saying the words feel too large, but Byleth hopes her actions will be enough for now. With her free hand, she tugs at his collar, encouraging him to lean down at the same time she stretches up on her toes. Claude goes willingly, and she kisses him – softly, chastely, clutching his hand tight. So similar to the first time she’d kissed him, that bare brush of her lips against his, on the bridge before the Cathedral in Garreg Mach, so long ago, only days before she’d fallen and lost five years. Her eyes fall closed. It's so innocent a kiss they might have been two children playing at love, not a pair of war weary veterans, but it is still enough to send a riot of emotion through Byleth, too aware that this might be their last kiss, that Claude is still leaving.

It is not their last kiss.

Byleth pulls back first, her eyes still closed, trying to reign in her feelings. But Claude’s lips follows her, as does the rest of him, and Byleth finds herself suddenly pressed between the door and Claude’s solid body, his hands grabbing her waist as hers slide into his hair, holding his face against hers. Their kisses become bolder until she opens up under him when his tongue licks across her mouth, seeking entrance, and Claude makes a wild sounding noise in the back of his throat. His lips are insistent, but so soft against hers, a sensation Byleth knows she'll never get tired of.

When they finally part, they’re both breathing heavily like they’ve just survived a pitched battle. Claude’s hair is a mess from her hands, and his lips are deliciously swollen looking – probably matching hers. He wraps his arms around her fully, burying his face in her hair, and she returns the embrace, trying hard to get her breathing under control.

“You have to know I love you too,” he says into her hair, making Byleth lean back in surprise to look at his face.

“I didn’t _tell you_ I love you.”

“I got the message.” His smile is bright, and he leans down to kiss her breathless again.

“But–“ she draws herself away from his lips with some difficulty. “ _Still_? Even after five years?”

He pauses before brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. His voice is a whisper. “How could I not?”

His eyes – green and pretty – are so sincere that it makes her breath catch, and she pulls him back down to her. Byleth feels like she’s moving on instinct – instinct she hadn’t even been aware she _had_. She shifts restlessly against him, her hands exploring wherever she can touch. Claude presses even closer against her, and when his hands flex under her thighs, she automatically jumps up to wrap her legs around his waist, hardly aware of her own movements, and Claude bunches up the skirt of her dress in his hands so she can settle close against him.

It's only when she’s suddenly horizontal on a soft surface, with Claude looming over her does she regain some of her senses. Only some, though, because Claude kisses her again, except this time his lips move down to her neck and shoulder, his hands pulling away the straps of her dress with uncharacteristically clumsy hands. When his teeth graze a sensitive spot, heat floods her, and she lets out a strangled groan, making Claude pause.

He speaks against her skin, voice strained. “I wondered what you’d be like, like this.” He groans himself, pressing his hardness against her, and Byleth shivers, again wrapping her legs around him, holding him close, seeking friction. One of his hands splay across her thigh. “If you’d be quiet and stoic, like you always are, or if I could make you moan.”

His _words_ make her moan. “Don’t stop,” she pants, unlocking her legs from him long enough to pull his shirt out of his trousers and off his body, needing to touch him. Taking Claude off guard, she flips their positions, but he quickly realises it’ll be easier to get her dress off this way. Byleth hikes the long skirt up to her waist before she settles on top of him, grinding down where she wants him most while her hands explore the vast expanse of delicious skin now revealed to her, greedily running her fingers through the hair on his chest before softly running her hands down the planes of his stomach, transfixed by the way he feels. She wants to put her mouth all over him, and kiss every scar on his body.

Claude works with haste at the buttons on the back of her dress, and it doesn’t take him long to pull it off her – probably more harshly than someone should with what Byleth assumes is an expensive dress. But she can’t find it in herself to care about it. All she can focus on is Claude's rapt face as his eyes follow his hands up her body, peeling away her brassiere and leaving her wearing only a tiny scrap of underwear. He sits up suddenly, keeping her steady with his hands on her back, and kisses her again; deeply, sweetly. Byleth melts into him, allowing him to manoeuvre her back down onto the bed and helping to divest both of them of the last of their clothes.

When his fingers find her already slick with want for him, he moans her name into her neck as he explores her, sliding his fingers against her before bringing them up to press at that place that makes her gasp.

Claude raises his head. “Show me,” he says, eyes glazed. “What you like.”

“I like you,” she mumbles without thinking, making Claude smile and lean down to kiss her again.

“Show me,” he repeats, speaking against her mouth and this time Byleth slides her hand between their bodies, tangling their fingers together and encouraging him to rub circles against her. She can feel how wet she is, wetter than she’s ever been when she’s touched herself before, and she arches up into Claude’s touch as he applies more pressure, learning her responses quickly.

“Your fingers,” she moans, loudly, unable to keep her eyes open. “Inside me.”

Claude breath is hot against her as he presses open mouthed kisses against her neck and then down to her chest, making her bite her lip against another loud mouth when he wraps his lips around her nipple. Meanwhile, he strokes his fingers through her wetness again before sliding one inside her, and then a second one, as his thumb continues to circle her sensitive bud.

Her hand stays on his, feeling the smooth skin and strength in them as touches her, and she can do no more than that as the pleasure builds; all she can do is simply hold on as she rushes towards her peak.

A third finger enters her and he bites down gently on her nipple, making her cry out his name, and her release roars up in her, overwhelming like a crashing wave all around her, leaving her trembling in the aftershocks.

Claude kisses back up her chest and to her mouth, kissing her deeply. When Byleth can finally open her eyes, he has something of an awed expression on his face.

“That was… incredible, By,” he says in a low, gravelly voice that sends flames of arousal licking through her in spite of her recent orgasm.

Her hand goes searching, fingers trailing down the planes of his stomach until she finds what she’s looking for, hard and hot and satisfying to touch.

Claude seems to feel the same way, because his hips buck into her hand, a delicious moan spilling from his lips.

Byleth continues her explorations, learning how it feels under her hands, dragging her calloused fingertips over the sensitive head that’s already leaking fluid.

“Byleth, _please_.” The growl in his voice sends another bolt of arousal through her and she slides her free hands into his hair to pull his face back to hers.

“I want you, Claude,” she breathes into him, “so bad.”

“You have me,” is his simple reply, still spoken in that rough voice, and then he’s filling her, so exquisitely that Byleth can’t keep her eyes open.

The feeling of being filled and stretched like this is new to her, but one she wants to experience again and again. She wraps her legs around him, pressing her ankles into his ass, wanting him even closer and deeper, and she clenches around him.

A wild, desperate noise leaves Claude’s throat.

Gently, Byleth brushes fingers across his cheek. “Are you alright?”

He wrenches his eyes open, blinking as he focuses on her. “Yes.” His voice is strained. “You feel amazing.” He gives a shallow thrust and groans again, head dropping to her shoulder as he swears. It makes a shudder run down Byleth’s spine, and she slides a hand into his hair, tousling it even further. She’s never seen Claude so undone.

She wonders if she's the only one who's ever seen him like this.

Another slow, long thrust has them both groaning, and then they find a rhythm against each other. Claude leans back and hikes her legs higher and wider, folding her so that her knees almost touch her breasts, and on the next stroke Byleth can feel him going deeper, and when he hits a spot that makes her sees stars, a high pitched whine escapes her that makes him pause.

“Are you okay?” he breathes out, and Byleth opens her eyes to find him staring down at her. He’s completely disheveled, hair a disaster and a flush that goes from his cheeks right down to his chest. His eyes are dark and she can see the strain on his face on his face from holding back.

Her hand in his hair curls tighter, while the other grips onto his bicep.

“Do that again, and _don’t stop_.”

He flashes a smile at that and does as she asks, slow at first, his eyes sliding half closed at the sensation, and then faster, more purposeful. Byleth also watches through heavy eyes, at the look of concentration on Claude’s face, at the strength in his arms by her head, muscles shifting under her hand.

It’s not long before her legs are trembling and she has to let go of his arm to keep one of them up, doing what she can to meet each of his now powerful thrusts, each one pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

Byleth is hardly aware that she’s saying his name each time he fills her, not until he suddenly stops when he’s seated in her, grinding himself against her.

She blinks open her eyes to see a fierce expression on his face.

“Khalid,” he says, something she can’t determine flashing in his eyes. “My name is Khalid.”

Byleth doesn’t even question it, instead trying to pull herself up to his lips. He understands what she’s trying to do and leans down, letting her kiss him. “Khalid,” she whispers, and he shudders.

She drops back onto the bed when he starts moving again, something almost desperate about his movements now, a choked moan escaping him when Byleth calls out _Khalid_ , drawing out the word as her pleasure crests again.

As she comes, it feels like Claude is growing bigger and harder inside her and she scrabbles at his back, wanting him to feel as good as she does.

“Clau–Khal–“ she pants, unable to catch her breath.

“Byleth, I’m–“ He’s no better than her, but she thinks he knows what he means.

“Inside, _please_.” There’s no sensible part of her at that moment – all she wants is for him to finish inside her, and it seems Claude is the same way because after a few more powerful thrusts he goes rigid, mouth falling open with a groan, and Byleth trembles as she feels him pulsing inside her, a warmth filling her.

She smooths her hand through his hair, which makes his eyes open, hazy with pleasure. He moans out her name, head dropping down, and then he all but collapses on top of her.

Byleth lowers her tired legs to the bed, drawing her arms around him as her breathing slowly evens out. It takes Claude a little longer to recover, and he presses his face into her breasts, softly kissing her skin as she continues to stroke his hair.

“Khalid?” she eventually asks, curious.

He gives a little groan and rises up, finally slipping out of her. They both wince at the feeling, and Claude glances down between her legs, and goes still again. Byleth doesn’t miss the way his eyes darken or how he licks his lips as he drinks the sight of her in.

Gently, eyes flicking up at hers to gauge her reaction, he presses two fingers back inside her. Her breath stutters as she realises he’s pushing his own release back inside her. The thought sends an unexpected shock of arousal through her, but Byleth can also feel exhaustion creeping in.

“Claude?” She sits up on her elbows.

He swallows as he looks between her legs again, and then takes a deep breath. “Sorry, I– I wasn’t expecting that to be quite so…” He trails off, watching his fingers disappear inside her, more fluids rushing out around his hand, making her squirm. His lips part, and his tongue darts out over his lips. With another deep breath through his nose, he pulls his fingers out of her again, and then glances up, a fiery flush crossing his face. "I know I shouldn't have finished inside–"

"I asked you to," she interrupts, and sees him shiver.

"You did," he replies, in that rough voice that goes straight to her core. "But–"

"It's fine, Claude," she says leaning forward to place her hand over his. "I wanted it. I'll talk to Manuela tomorrow about..." It's here that her embarrassment catches up with her, making her pause. "Preventing anything unexpected."

Claude's eyes travel up her body, and he gives a jerky nod when he meets her gaze. Releasing her hand, he drags himself off the bed, alarming Byleth.

“Claude?” she yet again asks, but this time there’s uncertainty in it.

“Sorry,” he says with a rueful smile. “I’m just getting something to clean you up with.” He disappears into an adjoining room – Byleth admiring his body as he goes – and comes back a moment later with a pitcher of water and two glasses – one of which he pours and hands to her, before disappearing again.

She sips her water as she tries not to let her thoughts run wild, waiting for him to return. When he does, he has some soft cloths that he gently wipes her off with, and then tosses them to the side before climbing back onto the bed.

She finishes her drink before setting the glass back down, immediately curling around him. “Are you alright?” She pauses. “Khalid.”

He groans. “I didn’t really intend to tell you that.”

That makes her tense up. “Oh.”

“No, Byleth, I don’t regret it.” He turns so that they’re both lying on their sides, facing each other, and drapes one of her legs over his hip. “I don’t regret any of this,” he continues, gesturing between them.

“Good. Neither do I.” She leans forward to kiss him, feeling tiredness at the edge of her vision, and she can’t help but yawn.

“Wore you out, did I?” The slightly smug tone of Claude’s voice makes her smile. “Get some sleep, Byleth.”

She can't help but ask, despite hating how needy it makes her sound, “Will you be here when I wake up?” 

He kisses her again. “I will, I promise. We'll talk then.”

*~*

Claude keeps his promise. Each time she wakes up during the night – or is woken up by him, with kisses and touches and further exploration of each other’s bodies – he's there. Byleth gets her wish to press her lips to every part of his skin before she takes him in her mouth, learning how he feels that way, and watching him lose every bit of his composure underneath her.

He returns the favour after that, devouring her and leaving her boneless and beyond satisfied.

For those few hours, she doesn't let herself think about what tomorrow might bring.

*~*

When Byleth wakes up to light filtering into the room through the edge of the heavy curtains, she knows their time is almost up. She lifts her head to see Claude already awake, green eyes watching her carefully.

“You’re leaving.” She speaks with no inflection.

“I am.” Claude replies in the same manner, but he tightens his hold on her, still watching her.

“Khalid.” She says the name again – the name she’d chanted in pleasure more than once last night – rolling it around her mouth. Claude stares at her lips as she says his name. “…Almyra?” she guesses.

Claude shakily exhales. “Almyra.”

Byleth waits.

“I’m half-Almyran,” he eventually says, and Byleth can see how difficult it is for him to say this. “My mother is Tiana von Riegan.” He keeps watching her, obviously trying to gauge her reaction.

“Oh,” is her first reaction, as she thinks back on what few details he’s told her about his family and upbringing. She thinks she can begin to understand now some things he’d told her. She remembers well his words about not belonging. “And you have to go back now?”

He hesitates before replying. “Yes. I… have ties to the royal family.” Byleth’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “And I need to return and make things better there. It’s what I wanted to do here, and I think I’ve done all I can – whatever little it may be. And I know Fódlan will be in good hands.”

Byleth frowns. “You won’t stay and help us fight?”

“I considered it,” he replies, slowly, “but I’m not sure it’s best that I stick around so soon after abdicating my role and breaking up the Alliance. It might undermine Dimitri.” He gives a rueful smile. “And the nobles don’t want me here anymore, anyway.”

She has to bite back the words _but I want you here_. He’s spoken about his dream to her enough times in the past for her to keep the words unspoken. She won't ask him to stay. It wouldn’t be fair – and he wouldn’t say yes. If Claude had been the type of person who would say yes to that, she might not have fallen in love with him. Instead, she asks, “When you say you have ties to the royal family…?”

“Ah.” He cups her face gently. “Would it surprise you to learn that I’m a prince?”

Her eyes widen as she processes that, tries to make it fit in with all that she knows of him. “I– I don’t think I should be surprised by anything, anymore.”

He's still watching her so carefully, like he's afraid he's going to say something that will make her turn her back on him. Byleth doesn't think that's possible. “I promised to keep it a secret when I came to Fódlan – obviously it could have put me in danger.”

“Will you become king?” she asks, still trying to process it, the knowledge that he's a _prince_.

Again he hesitates for a moment. “It’s not a given, but I intend to fight for it. I need to become king to achieve my dreams; to cut down the walls that separate us and open the borders.”

“That’s what you want, for there to be no outsiders,” she murmurs.

His lips quirk up in a warm smile. “You always did get me, Teach. Always made me wish you’d chosen me over Dimitri.” That makes her frown, reminding her of things he’d said to her back at Garreg Mach, and he looks chagrined. “Sorry.”

“You _know_ it was never like that. I didn’t know any of you before I had to choose.”

“I know,” Claude says with a sigh. “And I know it’s no use dwelling on what I can’t change.” His eyes are startling bright as he looks at her, his next words unfailingly honest. “I’ve missed you. And I don’t want to leave you, especially not after this. But I have to. This has always been my plan.”

“I understand.” And she does. She really does even if she doesn’t like it. Shifting closer to him, she lets her fingers trace idle patterns on his chest. “I do love you, you know,” she says, almost nonchalantly, the words not seeming nearly as scary as they had a few of hours ago, even if they wouldn’t make him stay.

He laughs, shaking her a little, but his expression is warm. “I know, By, I love you too.” Laughing again, he pulls her in for a kiss. “I never thought I’d get a chance to say that." Another kiss. “I hope it won’t be the last time,” he whispers.

“I won’t let it be,” is her fierce rejoinder, swinging a leg over him and pushing him onto his back. He grins, hands squeezing her hips as his eyes drag up her body, making her shiver. Byleth begins to rock against him as she kisses him deeply.

“And what about you?” he asks softly, when she pulls away to catch her breath, his hands encouraging her movements. Byleth hears his breath hitch as he begins to harden under her. “Even if it feels like it, the war won’t last forever. You’ll – _ah_ – you’ll march on Enbarr next, the Alliance and Kingdom armies combined. Edelgard doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Your confidence is inspiring,” she responds, a little wryly, a little breathlessly. One of Claude’s hands smooths down over her hip to squeeze her backside, making her gasp. The other one begins to stroke himself to full hardness, groaning at the sight of himself nestled between her thighs, so close to her warmth.

“But _after_ , Byleth, what about–“ He loses his words as she knocks his hand away, replacing them with her own as she rises up. When she slides back down onto him, Claude groans, reaching up to pull her face down to his, kissing her until she’s fully seated. She remains like that, lying over him, as she begins to put her hips to work, riding him hard, making both of them moan.

Bracketing her arms around his head, Byleth sets a rapid pace on top of him while Claude mouths and bites at whatever skin he can reach. He reaches up to her hair, gently taking a handful and tilting her head back.

“After, By, what do you _want_?” He bites out the words, voice thick with arousal.

And Byleth, too utterly blissed out to be able to think too hard on the answer, responds with complete honestly. “You.” It’s the one selfish desire she’s had since she’d woken up by that river after losing five years and immediately been thrown into the whirlwind of this war.

Her answer makes Claude moan and grab her hips again, holding her so he can thrust up into her. “You have me,” he hisses into her mouth just as she comes, and he follows not long after.

*~*

Later, as they recover their breath, knowing their time is running short, Claude says softly to her, “I’d love to show you Almyra.”

Byleth smooths sweaty hair away from his face, seeing the hope in his expression, mixed with something else. She wonders how difficult it is for him to share this part of himself with her. 

She smiles. “I’d love that too.”

Claude’s returning smile is even wider, basking her in its warmth.

*~*

They’re forced to part sooner than either of them would like, but Byleth needs to meet with the others for an important strategy meeting – as Claude had said, the time has come for them to march into the Empire and end the war.

They wash and dress and make a brief stop at Byleth’s room so she can change out of last night’s dress, and then they make their way to the wyvern pens, located at the top of a high tower in an adjacent building.

Byleth watches in silence as Claude readies his white wyvern for riding and leads her outside. He fiddles with the reigns for a moment, before looking back at her, and Byleth gathers her courage and steps forward, holding out her hand.

She opens her palm to reveal the ring, the one her father gave her.

“Claude.” She pauses. “Khalid. I want you to have this.”

Eyes darting between her face and the ring, Claude reaches out and picks it up reverently. “Byleth?”

“It was the ring my father gave my mother. He wanted me to give it to someone who I love as much as he loved her.”

He blinks and swallows. “I– You’re sure, Byleth?”

She nods. “I am.”

Claude steps closer, curling his fingers around the ring. He kisses her forehead lightly. “I wish I had a ring to give you in return.”

Shaking her head, Byleth replies, “That’s not why I gave you it. Whatever happens, I just wanted you to know.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “Will you wait for me? Until I have a ring and I can ask you to stay by my side forever?”

“Of course.” The answer comes easily, and she can see that still shocks him, to have someone so certain of him.

He swallows. “I’ll write to you, when I can. And when it’s safe–“ his face shifts into a determined expression ”–I’ll be back. With a ring and a question.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

He wavers at that. “You have no idea what you do to me when you say things like that.” He pulls her in for a hungry kiss, one that she eagerly meets, and when they separate, they’re both panting.

“And if I get tired of waiting,” she murmurs, “I’ll come find you.”

“Yes,” he hisses, kissing her again, hand slipping under her shirt before he appears to remember himself, tearing his hands away. “I have to go now," he laments.

His wyvern rumbles from behind him, as if in agreement.

Claude laughs. “I think she’s getting impatient.” He grows serious again, taking her hands in his. “Even if we’re apart, please never doubt my feelings.”

She nods. “I won’t. You know I feel the same way.” And despite how sad their parting makes her, she smiles, because this is more than she could ever have hoped for. “We’ll be together again.”

“Before we even know it,” he promises, sealing his words with another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This is originally the one-shot (though I did add to it for Claudeleth week) that I wrote that eventually expanded into a full length [Azure Moon Claudeleth fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20821937/chapters/49495625). There are some things that remained the same between the two versions, but it mostly entirely changed when I decided to figure out how AM Claudeleth might get to the situation in this fic, and it turned into the longest thing I've ever written. And, uh, this one-shot is far smuttier than the long fic. 👀


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